


Flowers and Blood (Gladiolus Amicitia x Reader)

by inconsistencys



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Blood, Death, Injury, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12829272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inconsistencys/pseuds/inconsistencys
Summary: He wasn't fast enough, but at least he could find poetry in the bruises under your skin.





	Flowers and Blood (Gladiolus Amicitia x Reader)

He wasn’t fast enough.

The beast found its way to you in seconds, ripping through your flesh with bared fangs and sharpened claws. Your body was bruised and beaten by the time Gladiolus ran his sword through the creature, and you couldn’t hide the blood pouring from your wounds as he ran to your side.

“Gladio,” you choked, iron coating your lips, “I—It’s bad, isn’t it?”

The laughter that escaped his throat was too bright, too loud to be real. He pressed his hand into your abdomen, eyes trained on the scars littering your shoulders.

“Nah,” his words tumbled from his lips, trembling as they fell to you, “Just a flesh wound, babe. Nothing you can’t handle.”

He reached for his bag, fumbling for potions or elixirs or _anything_ that could help. You tucked your chin into your chest, focusing your gaze on the curve of his jaw as he searched.

_It’s bad._

“Hey,” you whispered, resting a hand on his arm. He paused for a moment, eyes finding your face, shining with desperation, “It’s okay.”

His shoulders dropped as he pulled himself away from the bag. With a shaking hand, he allowed your fingers to intertwine, removing his other palm from your wound and taking his place on the ground by your side.

Your blood seeped through his jacket. He tried to focus on the warmth.

“Are you hurt?” You asked, turning your head to rest your cheek in the soil. His eyes found yours, sending the pain away with the warm of his gaze, and he leaned into you before he spoke.

“No,” he replied, his forehead resting against your own, “Not even a scratch.”

You smiled, then, and he tried to pretend that you were somewhere else. It was the morning after a hunt. You were home, in bed, with him. 

“Good,” you whispered, letting your eyelids fall. “I love you, you know.”

He pressed a kiss to your nose, your cheek, your lips. Saltwater pooled in his eyes, threatening to spill as he counted your eyelashes

“I know,” he forced himself to breathe. You were home. You loved him. “I love you, too.”

He watched as your lips settled into a smile and your breathing slowed. Silently, he lay with you long after your heartbeat left and your hand grew cold in his grip.

When he lifted himself from the earth, he counted the poppies peeking through your clothes and the bushels of lavender growing beneath your skin. Blood and bruises had taken root in you, sprouting in the battered greenhouse your body had become. 

He shook his head, grief trickling down his cheeks, and turned his gaze to the sky.

_You had always said that, when the Light returned, you wanted a garden._


End file.
